Day 9

It’s been rainy for days

(or cloudy, or rainy then cloudy, then rainy and so forth).

It’s the end of the world as we know it…

R.E.M.’s song plays in my mind

over

and over

until my head literally aches,

until the news explodes

and anxiety turns to panic.

I can’t breathe!

Stop.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I can’t control this virus, which is infesting

our world like termites in drywall.

It is crumbling, the death toll is massive.

This pandemic is for the ages. History will learn

what to do, what not to do.

We can’t go outside. No parks, no stores, no school. No holding love ones.

My little boy sleeps in my California king size bed,

he is so tiny; his lips are fat. All I see is his newborn self.

In reality, he’s seven and big for his age.

Yesterday, he asked me, “How do I know if I have the virus?”

He says, matter-of-factly, “I asked Google, but she doesn’t know.”

I share, “You will have the worse cough of your life. Fever.”

“Don’t worry,” I say. “We are safe in our home.” (I hope, I say quiet in my mind).   

I remember when I nursed him, protected him in the cradle of my arms and breast.

I have an urge to do that now. Protect him.

It’s the end of the world as we know it…

This pandemic is an apocalypse. It is like a Ray Bradbury sci-fi short story.

Except, it is true. This pandemic. This virus.

Hunting us like night owls chasing mice.

Call it what you will: SARS-CoV-2. COVID-19. Coronavirus.

#corona

#Istayhomefor

#alltogether

#flattenthecurve

#invisibleenemy

In Italy, 4,825 deaths. The world over 10,000, and we are still counting.

From Wuhan, China, to New York City.

Every continent except Antarctic.

Run.

But where?

I pray for so many. Where to begin?

My family, friends, doctors, nurses, the sick, world leaders, the Pope…

I write/pray well into the night. The candle is burning low.

I have to wonder, is it the end of the world?

God, is it?

I wear my blue glass rosary around my neck.

It touches my skin all day. 24 hours a day.

I am in prayer. It gives me strength, comfort.

I pray in between sips of coffee, in the silence

of morning.

In the blackness of 6:45 a.m.

This is no spring.

It has been rainy for days.

When will the sun shine again?

I see the glimpse of rays peeking through the cottonwoods.

I see a rainbow,

in the sky.

In my son’s drawings.

I take solace that my family is home safe.

I see little moments of hope. I watch on the news for

little glimmers of hope of people singing on balconies,

people emerging from lockdowns in China to finally photograph nature again.

When the Sun truly rises, when the virus is defeated

(hopefully), life will still

be here. It will be different. But it will still be here.

Maybe, the world will hold hands again

in peace

and joy

and thanksgiving.

I can only imagine.

But I have to have hope.

We are all in this together.

It’s the end of the world as we know it

It’s the end of the world as we know it

It’s the end of the world as we know it

and I feel fine…

because I have hope. 

© Gina Marselle, March 22, 2020

9 days and counting…

Image taken by Gina Marselle from her car window using an iPhone 7 Plus, March 19, 2020

photographs of us…

October 2018

“I felt it shelter to speak to you.”

~ Emily Dickinson

February 2019

Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.”

~Jalal ad-Din Rumi 

August 2019

I believe that poets have to be inside their poems somewhere, or the poem won’t work.

~Joy Harjo

We write the old fashion way, in our journals first. Many of us draw and paint and truly become energized with the love of creating in many genres and types of media. Photo taken by Gina Marselle from a salon in 2017. This is a photo of Kat’s journal…you can tell by her quote tattooed on her arm, “…disturbed….”
No stress, find balance. Photo by Gina Marselle, 2018.
Often, when we write, we have delicious foods to help keep the creativeness nourished. This is from a salon in 2017. We are now meeting online due to COVID-19 and we all miss meeting in person. Hopefully, soon things will return to normal. Sometimes, ordinary isn’t boring, after all. Image by Gina Marselle.
We live and write in the beautiful land of New Mexico. It truly is enchanted. Image from the Southwest Chief Amtrak train of the Sandias, taken June 2017 by Gina Marselle.
When we are together, we write and write, and write (and who needs shoes?). Image from a salon in 2017 taken by Gina Marselle.
Image of Saturday’s Sirens poets’, Emily, Kat, and a guest poet Sadof… from a salon in 2017.
We find inspiration in quotes…
Sometimes, we wear hats and have a cocktail (usually tea) to celebrate poetry and Shakespeare’s birthday (and did we say poetry?). Liza, in the photo above, is wearing a fabulous hat, shares her happiness even when we’re social distancing because of COVID-19. Salud. Kampai. Viva. Sociable. À votre santé. Cheers.

We have been meeting every Thursday for the month of April. Photo of Emily, Liza, Maxine, Kat, and Gina. Screenshot by Gina, April 23, 2020.